


Human Monsters and Monstrous Humans

by I_Got_Lost



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby Doo Where Are You! (TV 1969)
Genre: 1985, Based of the original series, Daphne takes no shit, Gen, Monsters, POV Original Character, Run, Season 1 Episode 4, Traps backfire, episode mine your own business, ish, its fred what do you expect, none of us like Fred Sr, oh no, there will be tie-ins from other series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2019-10-27 04:56:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Got_Lost/pseuds/I_Got_Lost
Summary: Mica Jones was having a wonderful summer.Except for the fact she lost her job, was kicked out of the house, and had to move halfway across the damn USA.Fan-freaking-tastic...Personally, she was going to blame her cousin Fred Jones Jr and those damn meddling kids...And their dog too...But she might be becoming a ghosthunter? So, there might be a positive in all this...As long as Uncle Fredrick didn't find out, everything was going to go fine. Hopefully.





	1. Football Jackets and Sedans

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my other works, then by this point you know, this work will be a bastardization of about every single tv show, some of the comics, and a couple movies. I am attempting to stick to the original 1969 stories but that might change depending on what works for the characters.  
> This will not be updated regularly because the _Please Tell Me You Have a Plan? _is my main work._  
>  Either way, i hope you enjoy this and continue checking for updates._

Mica Diana Jones, by her own admission, was chaotic neutral. It wasn’t that she wanted to make the world burn, or even see anyone get hurt, but things always seemed a lot more interesting when hell was brewing in the coffee pot.

Mica wasn’t the conventional ‘pretty girl’, sure she was average height and had long blond hair, but as her mother was fond of telling her, she was fell on ‘this side of chubby’. She hadn’t inherited the Jones’ good looks and instead seemed to take after the Nicholson’s fondness for plump women, a gene which her mother had managed to skip.

Lucky her.

Scrubbing at her eyes, Mica attempted to tuck herself further under the table and hide beside her younger cousin, whose name was currently escaping her mind. It was the Jones’ annual family reunion and her mother and father had forced her to come along, making her take a sick day at her job at the gas-station. She didn’t mind the job, Ceil’s Corner Gas was just on the outskirts of Lock Nine and hardly anyone came by except for the big-rig truckers, even then, she usually missed them, her shift being from four pm to midnight.

Mica hardly ever saw anyone at her job, and it was just how she liked it.

Except now, she was sitting beside a little tyke that didn’t understand the concept of hiding and her mother was going to murder her if anyone found out Mica was trying to duck out of the family get-together. She had four hours left of the torture of pinched cheeks and ruffled hair. Four more hours and then she was home free.

“Oh Fredrick, you must be so proud of your son.” Mica’s mother blathered as she sat down, narrowly missing kicking Mica in the face as she drew in her chair.

Panicked, Mica tried to scamper out the other side of the table, dragging her cousin along with her.

“Yes, so proud.” Came the answering drawl, Mica’s second (third? Fourth? Maybe uncle?) cousin answered in reply, the sarcasm so thick Mica was distantly surprised her mother didn’t get up and walk away with a huff.

Not entirely paying attention to what was going on above her, Mica threw herself against the floor and hoped to god no one tried to stretch out their legs. Beside her, the toddler giggled and shoved a plush toy of some kind into her face.

Mica resisted the urge to sneeze.

“Well, that settles it! Mica can move in with you!”

“What!?” Mica shrieked as she sat up, accidently hitting the underside of the table. Grabbing at her head, Mica collapsed against the ground with a groan. Mica was chaotic neutral, she was just the one who preferred to cause the chaos. Her mother had never even factored into the equation.

There was silence above her head and Mica’s heart stopped. The words ‘grounded’ and ‘Mica Diana Jones’ floated around in her mind, and Mica silently began to curse into the floor, ignoring how the toddler beside her giggled.

“Mica Diana…”

“Hi Mom.” Mica cut in, her shoulders around her ears as her mother glared at her from where she had pulled up the table cloth. “What were you saying to cousin….” She trailed off slowly as she hauled herself out from under the table and took in her mother’s annoyed expression. “Never mind.” She muttered, ignoring how the toddler tugged at her pant leg.

Fredrick gave her a sickening smile and reached out to pat her on the head. “Your delightful mother was just telling me how much trouble you can be,” Mica leaned away from the hand with a hiss as she shot her mother a betrayed look, “and I offered to put up with you for the upcoming semester. My son Fred Jr, is captain of the football team and I think you could do with the attitude adjustment?”

“Mother!” Mica growled, her hands fisting into the tablecloth. “Mother, I have a job. I can’t just leave!”

…***…

Apparently, Mica thought as she stared at her cousin’s (uncle’s?), sedan that had just pulled into her driveway, she could just leave.

Her father dropped a duffle bag onto the porch beside her with an apologetic wince. “I’ll talk to Ceil.” He whispered as he dragged her into a hug. “He’s got a cousin in Coolsville that owes me a favour. After a couple shifts, you can get a bus ticket.”

Mica burrowed her head into his shirt, heedless of the buttons digging into her skull. “A ticket to go where?” She hissed, suddenly hyper-aware of her mother’s judgmental stare from inside the house.

Her father shrugged as he tugged her back, one hand soothing down her flyaway hairs from her face. “I don’t know. Go have an adventure.”

Oh, that was very encouraging and helpful, Mica snarked from the safety of her own thoughts. Her father must have read something in her expression, because he nudged the duffle bag with his foot. “I packed that jacket you like, and the clothes your mother doesn’t like. The black ones.” He smiled at her, his eyes flashing with the crafty look her mother had tried so hard to beat out of them both. “It’s six months,” he murmured, his gaze flicking to the relative’s car with a thoughtful look. “It’s six months and you don’t have to be here with your mother for your sixteenth birthday.”

Things were suddenly looking up, Mica realized as she hiked her backpack onto her shoulders and snagged the duffle bag with one hand. It was the tail end of August, hotter then hell, and apparently, she was getting the blessing of a life time.

No interference from her mother for her long awaited sweet sixteen.

Things could be worse, she thought with a grin as she skipped down the steps, waving goodbye to her father as she threw her bags into the trunk of the car. Things could be much worse.

…***…

Things could also be better. Four hours of listening to cousin -sweetie, call me Uncle, its so much easier- Fredrick rave about his son, cousin Freddiekins, and she could honestly say she hated the poor boy already. Uncle Fredrick was mayor of Coolsville and his son, seventeen-year-old Fred Jones Jr, was captain of the school football team, currently dating Miss perfect rich girl from up the street and had befriended the son of Coolsville’s second millionaire family. He was a big ball of perfect and Mica was ready to rip out his throat.

She didn’t care if it was Sr or Jr that she killed, as long as the old man shut up.

There was a reason she liked working the night shift at a rundown gas station, and hint, it wasn’t because of the pay.

…***…

There was a loud thud, and Mica scrambled to sit up, her hands flailing at anything that was too close. Then her hand wacked off of something and Mica blurrily opened her eyes, cradling her throbbing hand close to her chest. Uncle Fredrick waved at her as he walked by the window, her duffle bag and backpack in hand.

Slowly, Mica’s brain connected the dots and she looked up from her hand to lean forward and peer out the windshield. The house wasn’t huge, but it was certainly bigger then Mica’s. Crawling out of the car, Mica sneered at the white picket fence and immaculate garden.

Everything looked _neat _. Too neat. There wasn’t a single weed in the garden and Mica was willing to bet that if she leaned down and stuck a ruler in the grass, the blades would all be exactly 3/4th of an inch.__

__“Creepy.” Mica eventually muttered as she stuck her hands in her pockets and marched up to the front porch. She supposed that she should count her blessings that the sun was going down and the entire neighbourhood wasn’t standing outside and gossiping about the ‘mayor’s newest charity case.’_ _

__This was all going to be one political gimmick, Mica just knew it._ _

__…***…_ _

__“Fred must still be out with Miss Blake.” Uncle Fredrick told her absently, one hand picking up the handheld from the kitchen counter, already dialing in digits. “He won’t be in until later.” Her bags were on the floor and Uncle Fredrick waved his hand to one of the numerous doors off the hall. “Second door to the left, Fred cleaned it out earlier.”_ _

__For a moment, Mica contemplated asking if there was going to be food, before she shrugged and picked up her bags. One missed meal wasn’t going to kill her, but it wasn’t a habit she wanted to get into. Backing out of the kitchen, Mica pushed open the door Uncle Fredrick had pointed to and felt her eye begin to twitch._ _

__Sure, cousin Freddie had ‘cleaned’ the room._ _

__She didn’t have a bed._ _

__She had a desk, but there wasn’t a bed._ _

__Well, to be accurate, there was a bed under about a ton of boxes, but that was just swell._ _

__Her bags hit the ground with a thump and Mica marched to the closet with a scowl. Gingerly opening it, she was surprised to see that there was nothing inside. From the looks of things, Mica could probably stand in it and spread her arms out to just barely touch either wall, even if she spun in a circle. It would have been awesome to keep it empty, but Mica needed the bed more._ _

__…***…_ _

__A half hour later, Mica had a new appreciation for Tetris and was seriously contemplating sending Ceil a thank you card for teaching her how to stack boxes. Sprawled out on the bed, Mica could at least admit that Freddiekins had thrown a new set of sheets and a bedspread onto the mattress._ _

__Letting out a low groan, Mica hauled herself up to her feet and dragged the bags over to the bed. The room was practically empty, soft blue walls glowed softly in the light, and Mica was suddenly aware of the fact that there was no dresser, bookshelf, or mirror anywhere in sight._ _

__And she had just filled the closet._ _

__Crap._ _

__Mica refused to live out of a duffle bag. She absolutely refused. But it wasn’t like she had a lot of options either. Pausing, she shifted over and pulled open the drawers of the desk._ _

__Empty._ _

__Well, that was a stroke of luck._ _

__Slowly, Mica unzipped the duffle bag and winced. From the looks of things, her father had thrown in every piece of black clothing she owned. Which, on one hand, was nice. On the other hand, it left her with nothing else._ _

__At least she had her _stolen _football jacket.___ _

It turns out that if one put in a form for sports wear, no one actually checked who bought it. So, Mica was the proud owner of one Lock Four Titan football jacket, with ‘Jones’ stitched proudly across the back.

Gently unfolding her jacket, Mica draped it across the desk chair, before she unceremoniously stuffed her shirts and jeans into the desk drawers. Her backpack held toiletries and a handful of pens and pads of paper in preparation for school. Yeah, this year was going to be great. She hadn’t even been able to tell any of her group that she was being shipped out. Marshal and Denis were going to be pissed.

…***…

It was around midnight that Mica heard the rumble of a diesel engine and she wanted to curse out the idiot that was trying to stealthily pull up to the house. Honestly, if he wanted to drive though unheard, he should have just cut the engine and coasted in, down shifting as he went.

Blurrily, she stumbled out of bed and pushed aside the curtain. Had she been more awake, she would have given a bigger reaction then a simple blink. As it was, all she could think was that Freddiekins was such an asshole.

Under the light, in bright orange, the words ‘mystery machine’ were painted onto the side of the van and Mica slowly put her head against the glass as she saw a blond teen climb out of the driver’s seat, tossing keys to a lanky teen as they crossed paths. The blond continued towards the house while the other boy climbed behind the wheel and drove off.

Mica kept staring at where the Mystery Machine had been parked and felt the need to laugh hysterically. No wonder Micky had fired her after her third shift at the warehouse.

Fred Jones.

The Mystery Machine.

Her cousin was the reason Micky’s brother was behind bars for five years.

Her cousin had cost her the best job she probably could have ever had.

And now, she had to live with him.

Lovely.

…***…

Mica had three days to get used to a regular sleep schedule before school started. The night shift had been the perfect excuse to never be around the house, but as Uncle Fredrick had sternly told her in the car, she was to join them each morning for breakfast and dinner. She was able to spend lunch however she liked it, but the other two meals were non-negotiable.

Fantastic.

Sluggishly crawling out of bed, Mica had stumbled to the bathroom with her clothes in hand and taken what had to be one of the shortest showers in existence. Toweling her hair dry, Mica had run into Freddiekins in the middle of the hall. Her head tilted to the side, Mica had managed a growled hello as she stumbled back into her room, one hand coming up in a wave as she shut the door and scrambled about for her forgotten brush.

Then her mind rebooted, and she bolted into the hall and stared at Fred, her hairbrush held out like a sword. In the hall, Fred was still frozen, his mouth open as he pointed back at her in shock.

“Who are you?” he shrieked, and Mica was never going to let him live that down, as he desperately looked around, possibly hoping that his father was going to appear from the middle of no where. “And what are you doing in Dad’s new study?”

Mica had yet to lower the brush, but she was beginning to lose the fight with the grin that was beginning to spread across her face from his reaction. “Mica Jones, your cousin.” She spat, one eyebrow quirked up as she cast a glance at her room. “I think Uncle Fredrick forgot to tell you that my room isn’t a study.”

Freddiekins paused, his face losing colour as he looked from her to the door and back again. Mica grinned and lowered the brush, absently beginning to untangle the mess that was her hair. “And as a bedroom, I kinda, you know, needed a bed?” she offered mildly, taking unholy glee from the way he continued to pale.

For a moment neither of them said anything, and Mica was just beginning to wonder if she had pushed too far, when Uncle Fredrick appeared from the room behind Fred, some how immaculately dressed already. “Ah, Fred, this is the surprise I mentioned last week.”

Freddiekins cast her a panicked look even as she smoothed her expression into polite disinterest. So, Freddikins hadn’t known about her until now. It certainly explained why she hadn’t had a bed.

“I offered to take in Mica because her mother was at her absolute wits end in dealing with the…” he trailed off with a cough, as if he suddenly realized Mica was still there.

Mica fluttered her eyelashes as she tried not to stick out her tongue and hurl her brush at his forehead. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a moment, Uncle. I forgot to put my brush away.” She simpered even as she backed into her room and snapped her hair back into a ponytail.

Oh yes, this was going to be a fabulous semester.

…***…

An hour later, Freddiekins was leaning against the column that held up the roof of the porch, staring at Mica as she lounged against the opposite column and stared back. Breakfast had been a silent affair, filled with toast and jam. Freddiekins had stared at his father the entire time and Mica had done her best not to sink into the chair.

“So, how long are you here?” Freddiekins eventually asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Mica shrugged and stretched out her legs across the steps. In all honesty, Mica wasn’t sure how long she had been banished this time. It wasn’t the first time she had been shipped out. Cousin Julia had taken her when she was ten, for the summer. Mom had let her come home in time for school and then, the next summer, Mica had been shipped off to Cousin Andrew’s for two months. Mica swore up and down she wasn’t a problem child, but when she was younger, it was either go to the cousins or go to the ‘ladies’ school held at the church. Without fail, Mica always choose the cousins. She wasn’t a big fan of the dresses.

Freddiekins pinched his nose with one hand and heaved in a sigh. “What grade are you in?”

This, Mica could answer. “Grade ten.”

Freddiekins winced at her sharp tone. “Grade Eleven.” He offered back, his hands falling to his sides. “Are you going to be following me around all semester?”

Laughter bubbled up in Mica’s stomach and she tilted her head back to against the column as she chuckled. “I think I should be insulted that you think I’m a little lost duckling.” For a moment, Freddiekins looked terrified and his hands came up to pacify her even as she hauled herself up to her feet. “Help me find a job, and we’ll talk about what you’re going to tell your father.”

The moment she finished speaking, she realized attempting to loom over Freddiekins wasn’t going to work. Not when the man had a solid hand width of height over her head. Thankfully, even thought Freddiekins was smirking, he wasn’t about to call her out on her poor attempt at blackmail. “How are you at research?”

The question came out of nowhere and Mica had to blink a couple times before she could process what was being said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Research. You know. Library books and old timey newspapers and all that jazz.” Freddiekins wasn’t trying to hide the smirk anymore.

Oh no.

No. No. No. No!

Not the Mystery Inc.

Mica Jones was not going to get involved with Mystery Inc.

They had cost Mica her first job!

No.

Never.

Absolutely not.

“Payment?” she asked against her better judgement.

Freddiekins grinned and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. “One fifth of any payment we receive and weekends away from this place.” He gestured to the door with a low voice, one eye on the window.

That, honestly, didn’t sound too bad, Mica thought carefully. If she was with Freddiekins, then Uncle Fredrick wouldn’t be hounding her, and to top it all off, it solved the problem of finding a job and getting transportation to said job. Aside from the fact she would be working with Mystery Inc, this might not be such a bad deal.

“I guess I’m going Mystery Inc.” she groaned, amusement bubbling up over the pale cheeks Freddiekins was now sporting. “Oh,” she teased,” you didn’t think it was a secret, did you?”


	2. Coke Bottle Glasses and the Creation of Friendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the interactions here were taken from a mix of the different series and/or from the comics.

Fredrick Jones hated his name, hated the fame , the perfection, and the double looks he received whenever his name was uttered. Fredrick Jones was his father, the man who spent long hours at the office, paraded about his perfect little house  with its perfect little lawn, and his perfect son. Its all about the poles after all, no matter that no one dared go against Jones Sr. not that Fred ever wanted to think about why that was.

He wasn’t sure he would survive going down that little rabbit hole. So, instead, he shortened his name, smiled when his father order him to, and escaped on the weekends with the gang that he had never expected to find.

It was Velma who had found him first, not that he'd ever admit it. The girl with coke bottle glasses, a painfully bright orange sweater and mini skirt, and clever little fingers that poked around the chemistry set with dizzying speed. Fred had been taking notes, his short hand not quiet quick enough to pick up her explanation of what she was doing when she froze, her hands still on a beaker and a towel.

“You don't have to be nice to me.” She muttered, her voice painfully thin and wavering, “If you want, I can finish the lab and give you the homework later.”

Fred had just about fallen off his seat in shock. His mouth opening and closing in incoherency. In another life, he might have said yes, but behind his eyes, all he could see was the way his father’s hands slipped along the back of secretaries and how people bowed and scraped over every last errant wish his father had. So, instead, he got angry. “Don’t you dare…” he had to pause, his gaze flicking to the messy scrawl on the girl's notebook, “Velma Dinkly. I won’t hurt you and I certainly won't use you for an easy grade.”

And wasn’t it sick that he had to say that. That he had to give a girl , smarter then him and damn good at what she was doing, reassurance that he wasn’t going to hurt her or use her.

He wouldn’t be his father, he liked to think he was a better man then that.

Velma blinked at him, her eyes widening behind her thick glasses, in her hands, the beaker shook. “Oh…” she trailed off, the most unexpected look of awe crossing over her features that Fred had to shift his weight under her gaze.

“Can you, I mean, could you…” Fred trailed off for a moment, the pen creaking in his slowly tightening grip. “Could you tell me what you’re doing?”

The beaker clinked onto the table under unsteady hands. “Well, I'm washing the tools we have to use today.” The words were rushed, as if Velma expected him to make fun of her for something.

The flippant response of ‘I can see that' was on the tip of his tongue before Fred could think, and it was only through years of holding his words against his father that kept him from responding. Taking in a deep breath, Fred had to remind himself that this wasn’t one of the guys from the team. She wouldn’t understand his banter, not yet. So, it was with a far more gentle tone that he asked, “Why?”

Velma's hands were worrying at the sleeves of her sweater and she was staring down at her shoes with a crinkle between her eyes. “It's a safety hazard to use things that you haven’t prepared yourself. Depending on what Mr. Sall had the class before doing, the chemicals we are about to use could create dangerous fumes if there was any residue left behind.”

Suddenly, Fred had a great deal of respect for the girl in front of him. Bowing his head even as a smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, Fred waved a hand towards her. “I bow to your expertise.”

The girl blushed.

Soon after that, Fred found reasons to talk to the painfully shy girl with coke bottle glasses. It wasn’t that he fancied her, to use his father’s term, but she was interesting. Once she realized he wasn’t going to hurt her, and the very thought still made him nauseous, she started to come out of her shell and quip back at him when he crossed a line she didn’t like.

No, he didn’t fancy Velma, but she was honest to the point of brutality, and took no nonsense. Best of all, in Fred's mind, she held no judgment when he sunk into a chair and couldn’t find the energy to smile. She didn’t ask him to be perfect, she didn’t hold him to standards he felt always slipped through his fingers, and she always seemed to know that sometimes he just needed silence. In return, Fred always made sure his homework was done on time with neat little notes for her to smile over, he swiped books from collection bins that he thought Velma would enjoy, and he stalked the idiots who dared to push her around in the halls and make her cry.

And, it was Velma that found the rest of their gang, however accidental. Fred had heard of Daphne Blake, the daughter of the multimillionaires on the far end of Coolsville. His father had been trying to land himself in their pockets for years, but he hadn’t managed to even get a glimpse past their immaculate wrought iron gate.

Then came the day where Fred was walking back in from practice and he heard screams in the parking lot.

Fred didn’t have time to react before he was bolting around the building, vaulting over the fence even as the next scream pierced the air. There, in front of the school, not even five paces away from the front door, was Velma. Her glasses were laying innocently on the pavement, her knees were skinned bloody, her books were scattered across the ground, and what was even worse, was the fact she had the most terrified look in her face Fred had ever seen.

The nausea came back in full force but it was barely noticeable under the boiling anger that had him stalking forward. There were three boys, kids Fred didn’t recognize, circled around Velma.

A hand caught him by the shoulder. “Dude, let it go.”

It took everything he had not to turn and punch first, ask questions later. As it was, Fred didn’t even turn to look at the fourth boy that held him by the shoulder. “I'm not leaving Velma alone.” He growled.

The grip on his shoulder tightened. “Sorry, I forget sometimes that people don’t know.” The tone was apologetic and that, more then anything else, had Fred turning around.

The fourth boy quirked a smile, his other hand coming up to rake through his disheveled hair. “Daphne needed something to yell at. Don't worry.”

Fred blinked, and sure enough  now that his blood wasn’t pounding in his ears, he noticed that there was a girl's voice flaying into the three boys. Still, his adrenaline was up and his hands shook as he stepped away from the other boy. Respecting the fact the girl had the situation handled, Fred learned down to pick up the glasses, cursing the way his hands shook, making him drop Velma's glasses three times before he could grab them tight.

Turning around, his heart broke as he saw Velma shaking on the ground, her hands scrubbing at her eyes and her shoulders shaking. “Oh Velma.” He whispered, his gaze never leaving her as he held out her glasses. “What did they do?”

He never got an answer, because Velma launched herself into his arms and tucked her head into his shoulder. Bewildered, Fred simply held her close and mumbled something about it being alright, even though it wasn’t and it never would be.

“Well, the Freak..  .” The tone was harsh, annoyed and Fred was going to kill him.

Fred looked up in time to see the girl dropping her purse and punch the ringleader so hard, Fred had to wince in sympathy. Behind him, the boy groaned. “Danger prone Daphne, did it again.”

For a moment, Fred wondered if he should help out, but the girl seemed to have it handled. And before he could react any further, the girl was flinging a book at the retreating backs of the three cowards. The book feel hilariously short of its target, but Fred had a feeling that was intentional. And then Daphne whipped around, her eyes blazing and her hands on her hips.

“And what do you think you're doing?” she snapped as she paced forward.

Had Velma not been wrapped around him, Fred would have scuttled a backwards. But, the boy, the biy who had stopped Fred from interfering, slipped between the pissed off girl and a startled Fred. “Whoa there, football boy was just coming to help.”

Self-consciously, Fred realized he was still in his gear and he probably stank to high heaven, but Velma didn’t seem to be letting go anytime soon. Daphne raised an eyebrow and sniffed daintily, completely opposite to how she had been acting only moments ago. “Shaggy, it’s far more likely he's here to make things worse.”

Surprisingly, Shaggy dragged himself up to his full height and gave Daphne a disappointed glare. “She's crying.”

Velma sobbed harder.

Daphne rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I made it worse, didn’t I?”

Shaggy shook his head as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Nah, you just didn’t stop to think, that’s all.” He grinned at her until she nodded and then he offered his free hand to Fred. “Shaggy Rodgers, this brute here is Daphne Blake. It’s nice to meet you.”

There were books scattered across the pavement, Velma was crying into his shoulder as her knees bleed sluggishly onto his shorts, and Fred's legs were beginning to cramp. Blinking, Fred stared up at Velma's saviors and said the first thing that came to mind. “Your knuckles are bleeding.”

…***…

“Gang, I'd like you to meet my little cousin. Mica Jones.” Fred announced , his hand heavy on the little thing's shoulder. He wasn’t sure how the gang was going to react to her, hell he wasn’t even sure how to react to her.

 The little kid playing dress up in a too big football jacket and ripped black pants.

She had shadowed him the first two periods, on his father's suggestion, and hadn’t said a word to anyone, not even the homeroom teacher. Fred wasn’t sure he was grateful for that or not, as the girl had huddled close to his side every time someone had taken a step towards them.

His father had pulled him aside before Mica had gotten up that morning and told him that the girl was troubled. Her mother had said she was dangerous and manipulative, good at faking emotions and playing heart strings. But, all Fred could see was a girl so much like Velma, it hurt. All false bravo and shaking hands when someone got to close. From the moment he had seen her, Fred wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and drag her to Daphne. The red head would be able to drag out the information from Mica.

Standing outside, beside the bleachers, Shaggy draped over a bench, Daphne with her hand frozen midway into her purse, and Velma peeking up over the edge of her biology textbook, Fred suddenly realized that Mica, the little brat, was giving them the same glare he had received when he slipped into the house the night before. So, it was entirely explainable when his hand tensed on her shoulder and he hissed “be nice.” Into her ear.

The girl tensed under his hand, her voice coming out strained as she said, “I'm Mica. I'm going to be here for the year.”

Surprisingly, it was Velma who broke the silence first. “Freddie, let the girl go. She's positively terrified.”

Blinking at the fact it was Velma, (Velma!), who was defending his spitfire of a cousin, Fred complied instantly. Velma's book hit the bench with a loud thump, and she was reaching for the girl before Mica even had a chance to protest. “It's alright. Freddie just doesn’t know how to deal with girls.”

Behind her, Daphne snickered, her hand finally completing its mission to search the depths of her purse for God knows what. Fred's gaze flicked over to hers and he raised an eyebrow, the memory of how they first met jumping to mind. But, even more surprising, Mica went willingly to the bench, her hands clamping around the textbook Velma had discarded.

“You,” Mica paused, her gaze flicking to the book and then to Velma, her tongue poking out between her lips as she hesitated. “You read.”

Fred wasn’t sure why she sounded so surprised and over her head, he exchanged a shrug with Shaggy.

Velma looked taken back. “The book isn't exactly for show.”

But Mica shook her head, her fingers tightening around the spine of the book with enough force, her knuckles turned white. “No, I mean, you…” she trailed off with a slight blush.

It was the first time Fred had seen her react with anything other then distance or defiance. Velma peered up at her through her glasses, her lips turning down in a slight frown. “What did Senior tell you?”

Fred jolted, his eyes widening as it dawned on him that his father, his father, had brought Mica to the house. He hadn’t felt this sick since he first realized his father had a new secretary every six months.

Mica grinned, her face splitting into a mischievously impish expression so fast, Fred’s head began to ache. “I don’t know. I was either a sleep or staring out the window.”

It was Daphne who caught the hesitation in her voice. “You know us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Fred raised an eyebrow, his cousin might have been a spitfire and a brat, but she was his spitfire and he wouldn’t let anyone annoy her, even if it was Daphne Blake.

Mica raised her chin in answer to the challenge. “Course I do, you cost me my first job.”

Fred almost dropped his head into his hands. Oh, that was definitely Velma, blunt and careless of her words.

Shaggy blinked, his head raising off the bleacher as he stared at Mica incredulously. “You worked for one of those monsters?”

It was only through years of football that Fred was able to lunge forward and grab Mica by the shoulders before the spitfire could rush the lanky boy. “Danny wasn't a monster, he was desperate!”

Shaggy poked his head up from where he had fallen down between the benches. Thankfully, Daphne hadn’t reacted other than to give Mica a baleful glare. “He stuck Shaggy and Scooby in a locked room and left them there to rot.”

Mica snickered and then winced apologetically at Shaggy's wounded expression. “Look, I never said Danny was on the straight and narrow, I just said he wasn’t a monster. He paid on time every week, in full. He never catcalled me and he certainly didn’t look down on me for being a girl.”

Daphne sniffed as she hauled Shaggy back up on the bench. “He was a crook.”

“But he wasn’t a monster.” Mica sagged back into Fred's hold and Fred almost slipped at the sudden dead weight.

“Alright.” Fred soothed, his gaze flicking between the other members of Mystery Inc, willing them to drop the argument. “Danny wasn’t a monster.”

…***…

Mica was curled up against the side of the Mystery Machine, her teeth nibbling on her nails as she flipped through some obscure tomb he hadn’t even seen Velma flip through.

Staring at her, Fred couldn’t help but tense, his thoughts spiraling around how to keep her safe. He was so focused on his cousin that he didn’t notice Daphne sit down beside him until the redhead was leaning against his shoulder.

“It'll be alright Freddy.” She murmured, her gaze fond as Mica gave a small noise of excitement and flipped through the book faster.

“Dad has the room between us.” He admitted, his jaw clenching after the admission dropped between them.

Daphne stiffened, her hand going down to entangle with his. “Does it lock?” she nodded towards Mica.

Fred dipped his head down into a nod, something in his chest loosening. “She keeps it locked at night. I heard the door rattle.”

“Does your father have the key?”

Fred squeezed Daphne's fingers even as he reached up and pulled a string out from under his collar, a small key glinting in the sunlight. Daphne snickered softly. “Good job.”

Fred smiled as he tucked the key back into his shirt. Everyone thought he and Daphne were the perfect couple, the captain of the football team and the youngest Blake girl. It was a match made in heaven. But that wasn’t why he and Daphne worked. He was just Fred, not the Jones Boy, and she was just Daphne, not her family's youngest child. Both of them had a person to protect and they both knew the other wouldn’t harm, hinder, or hurt their charge. They worked because with him, Daphne could let go of the Blake name, and with her, Fred could whisper what his father did behind closed doors.

They worked because they couldn’t imagine anything else.

“She's coming with us this weekend.” Daphne whispered into his shirt.

Fred nodded absently, his fingers twirling around the lower part of her hair. “I already hired her. She’s getting my cut.”

Daphne hummed. In reality, only Fred and Velma got any portion of the reward they made. Both Daphne and Shaggy received a large enough allowance that they both felt it wasn’t fair for them to take away from the only job Fred and Velma could find.

Fred refused to work for his father and Velma, Velma's parents often forgot to pay her for working shifts at the Coolsville museum, or as Velma called it, the tourist trap.

And now? Now there was Mica, in her too big football jacket and her tattered black pants, and Fred wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated


	3. Moving Forward and Settling Down

“I'm not sure I understand the point of this.” Mica admitted as she put her chin on her knees, her fingers twirling the tail of her braid around her fingers. The first week of school had gone about as well as she had expected, which meant she had only been shoved down the stairs once, been yelled at for stealing dear ol’Freddikin’s jacket three times, and gotten lost at least once per day. That wasn’t to mention the whole locker incident.

Mica would be taking that incident to her grave.

Beside her, Velma flipped the page of her new chemistry book, her fingers playing with the corner of the page. “They're boys.” Velma explained, her gaze flicking up long enough to pin Mica with a _look._

“But,” Mica interjected, her hands flailing around in the air as she tried to explain her point, “its stupid.”

Behind her, Daphne gave a gasping sort of cough and Mica shrank down on her perch in the bleachers. Fred's friends were, interesting, to say the least. They were nothing like her group, the ones she had left behind, and she couldn’t help but resent them for it.

Oh, Mica knew that the situation wasn’t Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, or Fred's fault. Until Monday, three of them hadn’t known she existed. But still, here she was, curled up on a bleacher, far from her own friends, in a school that seemed to both love and hate her because of her name, watching as her cousin relaxed in front of his friends in a way Mica hadn’t even been able to while she was home.

Intellectually, Mica knew Uncle Fredrick was the mayor and held some big spot in a few different businesses (which, wasn’t that illegal?) and the town seemed to love and hate the Jones name for that very reason. Mica could get a hall pass without a second thought from any of the staff, but should she be found curled up in the library on lunch, or God forbid, trying to talk to anyone her own age, Mica was pulled into the nearest office and given a stern talking to about legacies and expectations. Honestly, if Mica was going to be causing trouble, it would not have been in the library.

And then there was Fred Sr. himself.

The mere thought of the man sent a shiver down her spine and Mica hugged her knees again. After spending a week in that house, Mica knew without a doubt that the man was certainly her mother's first cousin. Sitting at the dining room as Uncle Fredrick looked over her shoulder, watching her do her homework wiped away that lingering doubt. Although, what really drove home the family resemblance was the way Fred seemed to flinch away from his father whenever he thought Mica wasn’t watching.

So, no, Mica wasn't pleased to be here, no matter what Uncle Fredrick seemed to be attempting to metaphorically beat into her head.

And, in some ways, Mica couldn’t help but take the stress of the whole situation out on Fred's friends. She didn’t mean to snap and snarl and it hurt every time one of the four gave her a sideways glance, but…

Her father hadn’t called once and Fredrick had signed her up for music and cores. There wasn’t an elective Mica enjoyed in sight. Flute, Mica was beginning to realize was a pain when you couldn’t whistle or otherwise hit a note higher then, well, a b flat. Why anyone would give her a flute, Mica didn’t understand. Apparently, neither did the music teacher, because the man kept shoving her into a sound proof room and telling her to try and at least sound reasonably similar to a flute. Mica kept just barely smacking the man's knuckles with the instrument.

On the field, Fred gave a yelp as he was slammed to the ground, the football rolling out of his hands. Mica winced at the scene, her back and shoulder aching in sympathy for her cousin. Football practice was dreadfully boring and utterly insane, Mica acknowledged as Fred rolled back to his feet.

Beside her, Shaggy's dog, Scooby, gave a low rumbling growl. His ears perking as Fred stumbled and his lip curled back to show his teeth.

Shaggy swatted at his tail. “Be nice.”

Scooby whimpered and crawled forward, his front paws and muzzle landing on Mica's feet as he rolled his eyes up to look at her with a pitiful expression. Gingerly, Mica ruffled his ears. Scooby, in a word, was unnerving. His shoulders were even with her hips, his paws were big enough that Mica wondered if he was still growing, and sometimes she swore the mutt could talk.

In all honesty, Mica liked Scooby, but he was big and Mica wasn’t. Mica was small and chubby, Scooby was big and thought he was a lap dog. It didn’t take much to see what the main problem was.

One of the boys on the field pushed at Fred's shoulder and Scooby perked up again, his head lifting from Mica's feet as another low warning growl rumbled through the bleachers.

Absently, Mica grabbed Scooby's collar , ignoring how the poor thing spooked at the sudden motion. Mentally, Mica chided herself even as she stroked the top of the mutt's head. She knew better then to startle any canine, and she certainly knew better then to make a motion from behind a canine's head. Yet, Scooby-doo, 125 pounds of mutt, was as docile as a lamb as Mica scratched behind his ears.

…***…

Practice was long over by the time Fred stumbled out into the parking lot. A towel was flung over his shoulder and Mica barely resisted the urge to grab the thing and ruffle it through her cousin's hair. Jones hair couldn’t drip dry or it would curl something awful and that wasn’t a good look on either of them.

“So,” Mica began, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared her cousin down, “why couldn’t I go home on the bus instead of…?”

“You mean you didn’t tell her!” Daphne plowed over her, the tail end of Mica's question de-railing in the face of Daphne's sudden fury. The redhead spun on her heel and slapped a palm into Fred's stomach, making him wince.  “Fred!”

Mica stumbled back, only stopping when Scooby leaned into the back of her knees in silent support. Shakily, one hand dropped to curl into his fur and Scooby nuzzled into the contact, allowing her to block out the worst of the raised voices.

Mica didn’t like yelling.

Yelling was bad.

Scooby nosed into her hip, his snout pushing against her hand insistently.

Swallowing down her sudden unease, Mica focused down on Scooby, her fingers trailing over his black splotches absently.

Her mother would have smacked her upside the head by now, had she been here. But, she wasn’t, and Fred was yelling and Daphne was yelling back, and…

And…

Uncle Frederick was going to find out and she was going to be yelled at even more and when Fred found out, because of course he would, Sr. adored his son, Mica was going to get kicked out and then her mother would have a fit and then…

Mica couldn’t breathe.

Her fingers tightened in Scooby's fur and she heard a high pitched whine. Scooby's ears flicked back and it took her a moment before she realized the sound was coming from her.

Something wet dashed across her wrist and Mica jumped, air heaving into her lungs as her nerves short circuited. Looking down, she saw an abashed Scooby-doo, the mutt standing at attention with his tail wagging tentatively.

“Good boy.” Mica murmured as she settled her hands into his fur to hide the shaking.

After a moment, another hand joined hers in Scooby's fur and it took a split second for Mica to understand that she hadn't left the school parking lot at all.

“Its alright.” Shaggy had one pointed elbow on her shoulder, forcing her to take the brunt of his weight. “Daphne is just worried about you.”

For a moment, Mica could only gape at the other teenager, the buzzing in her ears slowly turning into coherent words the longer she forced herself to pay attention to both Shaggy and the raging rabble.

“I don’t like yelling.” Mica finally managed to respond, her mouth dry. She wasn’t sure if that statement was her defense or an explanation of the reaction.

Surprisingly, it was Velma who saddled up beside her when Shaggy only blinked at her defensiveness. Velma curled one arm around Mica and forced Shaggy to stop leaning on Mica all in one smooth movement.

“Its alright.” The girl whispered, her other hand clenching around the spine of a novel. Giving Mica a soft smile, Velma tugged her a bit closer. “Freddy,” she called, her voice barely raising, “you really do need to learn how to speak to girls.”

Fred and Daphne's suddenly flummoxed expressions did Mica in and the blond started laughing before she could think the reaction over.

Fred crossed his arms, still pouting, although Mica could see the edge of a smile through her laugh blurred vision. “Mica,” he began, his voice twisting a bit as Daphne trod on his foot, “we're scouting out a job in Indian Springs, would you like to come with?”

Mica blinked, her earlier confusion forgotten as excitement burst to life in pinpricks across her skin. She wasn’t in trouble. Fred wasn’t going to yell at her and he was even sticking to his promise of getting her a job.

She couldn’t screw this up, not if she wanted to get that bus ticket.

Dropping her backpack to the ground -barely managing to avoid hitting Scooby’s paws- Mica scrambled to open the zipper. “So, I kinda expected us to go soon, just, you know, not so soon, so I only have one set of clothing, but I also have, about,” Mica paused in her rambling, her fingers dragging across the back of the few books she hadn’t stopped carrying since Fred had ‘hired’ her, “four different paranormal and supernatural books. Nothing on Indian Springs though.”

And wasn’t that the kicker? Mica had crawled through the public and school library, pulling archives and books down ever since Sunday. Uncle Fredrick hadn’t wanted her to be around causing problems, and from experience, Mica knew that the librarians would be willing to gush over how ‘cute' it was that a Jones was willing to do all her own research. Effectively, Mica was killing two birds with one stone. Her uncle would be able to keep tabs on her and Mica would get some breathing room and privacy. Besides  it wasn’t hard to fool the library detectors as she hauled book after book out of the library, covering her own tracks of what, exactly she was researching.

Looking up, she realized belatedly that the gang was staring at her in surprise. Shuffling up to her feet, Mica shrugged, the excitement suddenly dead in her gut. Maybe the gang already knew everything and was bringing her out for a test run.

Maybe this wasn’t supposed to be embarrassing but rather it was her interview. Hell, in retrospect, Velma probably knew everything there was about ghosts and was snickering behind her hand as Mica made a fool of herself. This was Mystery Inc., after all, the best of the best.

With that thought bouncing around her head, Mica shrugged again and gestured to the books with a small grimace. “Look, I didn’t want to get clocked by a ghost because I didn’t know to carry salt and iron.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chapter, i figured something was better then nothing.  
> As always, have fun, enjoy, and please don't shoot me.

“Like, your cousin is weird.” Shaggy said from the far side of the bench, his hands pinning a roadmap to the dash as he traced the road with a fingertip.

Flexing his hands on the wheel, Fred made sure he kept his voice low. “Careful Shaggy, that is my cousin.”

Fred was the first person to admit that Mica wasn’t normal. No Jones was normal, not even him, but Mica was his cousin and for better or for worse, Fred was obligated to defend her. God knew no one else would. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to rub the headache out of his forehead.

Ghosts.

Mica believed in ghosts.

Why did Mica believe in ghosts?

Flexing his hands on the steering wheel again, Fred shook his head, thanking whatever deity that was watching over him, that the gang had picked up the cue to keep their voices low. He had gotten hit a few more times during practice then he cared to admit, besides, Mica was passed out in the back, curled around Scooby-doo, a book half open in her lap. Her ever present jacket was still wrapped about her shoulders and Scooby had his baleful brown eyes positioned perfectly on her thigh, Mica’s hands resting on his head.

Mica looked different in her sleep, Fred thought as he glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. It wasn’t that she looked younger, Fred wasn’t sure she could look any younger and still be a teenager. But she wasn’t as, well, spikey. Except, that wasn’t the right description either. Around him, Mica was a snarling ball of nerves, her jacket wrapped around her shoulders and held closed in white knuckled fingers as she all but hissed and spit at him. Towards him, Mica was a cornered animal caught in a trap, angry and desperate. Around the others, Mica was far more approachable. Sure, she was just as likely to snap and snarl, but like when Scooby got startled, Mica would immediately apologize and grovel.

All teeth, no bite.

But, it was easier for Fred to think about why Mica seemed to believe in ghosts over why the girl had a backpack of overnight supplies ready to go. He hadn’t seen a speck of school supplies in her bag. Mica was fifteen for crying out loud, she was supposed to be worrying about boys and school, not whatever half-cocked plan her older cousin had cooked up.

“Freddy, breathe.” Daphne warned as she finger-combed her hair, most of her attention of the low chatter Velma had started up about whatever English project they shared together.

Shaking his head, Fred forced himself to focus back on the road. For a Friday night in September, it had certainly gotten dark quickly. Furrowing his brow, Fred risked a quick glance up to the sky even as the road became rougher.

There were storm clouds circling overhead and Fred couldn’t recall when they had formed. Shrugging away the tense line in his shoulders, Fred pushed away the thought with little more then a sting of unease. The forecast had said it would be clear all the way to Monday, but it wouldn’t be the first time the weatherman had lied. Besides, out here between the mountains, the weather was always a little wacky.

Wait…

Fred paused, his brow furrowing as he glanced around. Between the mountains. They should have one mountain to the right and a river to the far left.

Slowly, Fred steered the Mystery Machine off onto the shoulder of the road. Immediately, Daphne turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a pout. “Freddy, if you're that tired, Shaggy can drive.”

Shaggy sputtered in the background.

Fred ignored them both. There were mountains on either side of the Mystery Machine, a storm rumbled down the canyon and from Fred's recent geography class, he knew water tended to flood down the mountain paths and into the valleys.

“Velma?” Fred said quietly, his eyes still fixed straight ahead. His father might swear by God and hell, but Fred swore by what he knew would save his ass. Velma Dinkly.

“Give me that.” Velma ordered as she stole the map from Shaggy's hands.

For a moment, it was silent, Mica's quiet snores and mutters the only sound plaguing the Mystery Machine. Closing his eyes, Fred settled back into the seat, his head thumping against the back of the bench. What he wouldn’t give to be passed out in the back beside his cousin. Practice always made him hurt and most days Fred questioned why the hell he had ever joined in the first place.

Oh yeah, it was his father.

Swallowing down the bitter pill, Fred forced himself to take another deep breath before he opened his eyes again. He wasn’t going to like Velma’s response; he just knew it.

Sure enough, Velma leaned over with a grimace. “Shaggy was holding the map upside down. From the looks of it, we're about thirty minutes away from a place called,” Velma ducked her head, whacking Shaggy's hands when he tried to take back the map, “Gold City.”

Daphne's hand tightened on Fred's knee. “Shaggy didn’t mean anything by it, Freddy.”

Fred didn’t have to look down the bench to see that Shaggy had curled his shoulders and ducked his head, one hand on the door handle. If Fred thought his father was bad, Shaggy's parents were worse.

The Rodgers held high expectations and a lower than normal ability to compromise. Fred had only been to their house once. The building (because that wasn’t a home, could never be a home no matter what Shaggy protested in an undertone) was cold and imposing. Their garden was from a catalogue, their parlor was a decorator’s dream, and Shaggy's room was utterly devoid of life.

Well, devoid of Shaggy's life.

White walls with matched a blue bedspread, paired with white and blue dresser and headboard. A throw rug seemed to double as Scooby's bed, and the only sign that someone seemed to live in the room was Shaggy's homework spread across the bed and Scooby's food and water beside the door. The scene certainly explained why Shaggy's important items were stored in a box at Daphne's house. The Rodgers were old money and it certainly showed in the aloof sneer marring Mrs. Rodgers' face.

Shaggy had been threatened with military school since he was old enough to walk. He had been threatened with being cut off from Daphne when he was old enough to talk. The two threats -and God only knew what else- had resulted in Shaggy being anxious and panicked. Scooby was often the only thing (or person because God sometimes that dog acted more human then most people) that could calm him down, or at least block out the world until Daphne could interject herself into the situation.

“I don’t think we can make it back with out passing a gas station.” Fred explained, not even mentioning the fact they were lost.

Velma scowled slightly, her fingers tapping the map. “Well, the good news is there's a town up ahead.” Then she scowled, her nose wrinkling as she folded the map and showed Fred the front.

He just about groaned, of all the things to forget.

The map only showed Ghost Towns.

They were screwed.


	5. Maps and Obscure Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
> I know, its been a while, but hey look! New chapter!  
> And Shaggy's telling it!  
> YAY!  
> As always, have fun, enjoy, and please don't shoot me.

Mini Jonesy was having a nightmare, Shaggy realized with a frown as he turned in his seat to look back at Scooby. The girl was sprawled across the floor of the van, her legs propped up on a backpack, her head wedged oddly against the seat and the floor. Scooby, the old softy, had curled into her side, his eyes half lidded as he whined into her hands.

Shaggy half hid a smile. It wouldn’t do for the spitfire and furious to notice that he was amused at her situation. Sure, nightmares sucked, but Scooby cuddles were the best.

“We don’t have enough gas to make it back to Coolsville.” Fred admitted, the sudden statement drawing Shaggy’s attention back to the road in front of them.

He hadn’t meant to read the map wrong, Shaggy thought with a slight frown as he curled into the door frame absently. He probably should have noticed that the writing was upside down, but in all honesty, it wasn’t too hard to read upside down. The skill had always made Daphne frown, but when Shaggy grown up sneaking into offices and slipping away with boarding school applications and military forms in too big pockets, reading upside down had become necessary.

Besides, his father could sign his name upside down and that was just terrifying.

“Well, Mr. Powell knew to meet us at Indian Springs. In theory, he should check the roads for us just in case something happened when we don’t show up tomorrow morning. Realistically, we can’t be the first person who accidently went to Gold City.” Velma broke the silence as she folded the map and popped it into the glove compartment. Shaking her head slightly, she glanced over to Shaggy and gave him a small grin. “Besides, who would have thought there was an Eldorado in the United States?”

Shaggy gave a slow grin back even as Daphne leaned forward and flashed him a grin. “Yeah, it just makes things more fun!” She cheered, her gaze flicking to the back the van even as she grimaced at how high her voice became.

Fred shook his head and tugged on his ascot. “Don’t worry about…”

“Eldorado.” Mica interrupted, her arms slinging over the bench and onto Shaggy’s shoulder as she plopped over the top of the bench, her eyes still a bit blurry. “Ain’t that the mythical city of gold?” She yawned, her words slurring together.

“She’s already awake.” Fred finished lamely, his head thunking against the steering wheel as Mica turned and snarled at him.

Velma gave a quiet squeak, one hand going to cover her chest as she flinched into Daphne’s shoulder. At the same time, Shaggy grabbed onto the door handle and practically jumped out of the Mystery Machine, only stopping when he realized Scooby had barely moved aside from a slight whine.

Mini Jonesy was a damned terrifying Spitfire, Shaggy thought as Daphne softly reprimanded the girl. Unlike her cousin, Mini Jonesy acted like a pissed off cat, her teeth flashing whenever Freddy tried to step in and interact with her. Docile like a lamb with Scooby when he wound around her legs. Slowly, Shaggy forced his hand to release the door handle and settle back onto the bench.

Fred gave a quiet groan. “Mica, I’m tired. Please, can we do this later?” He begged softly.

For the first time since he saw her, Mini Jonesy looked contrite. “Sorry.” The girl muttered, half slinking down behind the bench, her head bowed as her hands curled into fists. “What I miss?”

For a moment, Shaggy wondered if Daphne was going to let Mini Jonesy change the subject so easily, especially when Fred looked so lost with Mini Jonesy's blatant disregard and annoyance.

Fred heaved out another sigh. “We took a wrong turn.” He explained, leaving out Shaggy's part in the monumental screw up.

Shaggy wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, considering they appeared to be halfway between Ghost Town One and Ghost Town Two, the evil twins from hell. There was a reason, afterall, that people didn’t live in Ghost towns, and Shaggy wasn’t too keen as to find out the reason between these abandoned estates.

Mini Jonesy stifled a yawn, her teeth flashing before she absently covered her mouth with a hand. “So? We turn around and drive back.” She offered sensibly, a grin quirking at the corner of her mouth when she caught Shaggy's stare.

A slight flush crawled up Shaggy's cheeks as he turned back around, his gaze catching Velma's as the short geek waved around the road map. “Not so simple, Mica. We're running out of gas.”

Mini-Jonesy frowned even as she plucked the roadmap out of Velma’s hand. Ignoring the other girl's protest, Mini Jonesy unfolded the map and glanced about before she leaned back over the bench, half way between Fred and Daphne. “Indian Springs, right?” she mused aloud.

Without looking up, Fred waved a hand over his head. “Try Gold City.” Came the muffled reply.

Mini Jonesy quirked an eyebrow and perked up, her head raising in a way that was oddly reminiscent of Scooby-Doo's confused whine. Biting her lip, Mini Jonesy seemed to waver in place before she nodded once and shoved the map back towards Velma and scrambled out the back off the van, Scooby climbing out after her in a flight of nails clicking across the floor of the van.

“Oh shit.” Shaggy swore as he threw himself out of the van before anyone else could react, images of Mini Jonesy disappearing into the night sinking into his brain. This was his screw up. Mini Jonesy didn’t have to do a damn thing to try and fix it.

“Scooby-Doo, where are you?” Shaggy shouted, his eyes straining against the darkness as he looked for movement in the shadows.

“Shaggy?!” Velma shouted behind him, her orange sweater a beacon in the dark.

Shaggy waved her off, a quiet whuff making him spin around to see Mini Jonesy standing in the middle of the road, Scooby leaning back against her knees.

“Scooby.” Shaggy scolded, his fingers clicking together in a quick snap as he gestured for Scooby-Doo to come back. Scooby whined and leaned further into Mini Jonesy's knees.

“We're near the mountains, right?” Mini Jonesy mused aloud, one hand over her brow as she peered into the night. “And the River Crawl is over there?” she pointed into the distance with a slight gesture even as she turned back to the mystery machine with a quick smile. “I think I know where we are!”

Shaggy stared at the girl incredulously. “You couldn’t have found that out by looking at the map?”

The girl scowled but at least she ducked her head and slunk closer, Scooby trailing after her like an adoring duckling. “Route 67 put up a weight restriction for the one section of the highway, and due to the way construction has routed traffic through the mountains, any vehicle with air brakes as been told to take the scenic route along the base, following the River Crawl.” Mini Jonesy told him when she was within touching distance her hands flying every which way as each landmark popped up and she pointed in the corresponding direction. “Last I heard, abandoned towns like Gold City were being used as pit stops by some of the drivers. Its cheaper then finding a hotel.”

Shaggy’s mouth dropped and for a moment all he could do was blink and stutter out something incoherent that even he couldn’t decipher.

Mini-Jonesy didn’t seem to notice. “Some of the trucks have got to be gasoline based rather then diesel.” She paused; her mouth pressed together in a firm line as she nodded once. “If the trucks ain’t gas guzzlers then someone has gotta be there to man the stations for the trucks.”

Shaggy blinked again as the girl spun on her heel and bounced her way back to the Mystery Machine, Scooby dodging at her heels. “Come on Shaggy, it’ll be fine!” She sang as she climbed into the van, a small grin crossing her face.

Standing in the middle of the road, Shaggy could only shake his head in disbelief. He thought Freddie was a whirlwind but apparently Mini-Jonesy was worse. It must be a Jones thing.


End file.
